


One for sorrow

by theinvisiblesideuniverse



Series: Counting everything I saw [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e22 All Good Things..., F/M, Memory Loss, referenced poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisiblesideuniverse/pseuds/theinvisiblesideuniverse
Summary: Jace visits one of Clary´s exhibitions and gets lost in thought while watching her.





	One for sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a nursery rhyme about magpies.  
> English is not my first language so please tell me if you find any mistakes.

Fighting was all he did.  
Fighting for his siblings, fighting for his friends, fighting for the safety of the mundanes. There was no denying that the last of the Herondale was a fighter, a protector, but he often secretly wondered, why he did all of that, at least since Clary left. He wondered, how the hell he was supposed to serve in the name of the Angel Raziel, how he was supposed to be his weapon on earth, if this angel treated Clary so unfairly.  
These musings often lead Jace to breaking even more rules than before, which is why he was now hurriedly walking down a dark and gloomy alley on his way to another Art Gallery.  
The thing is, the blond nephilim wasn´t really interested in the art that was displayed there, as he always had trouble to understand the meaning behind most pieces. His deep lack of understanding for art was in no way an uncommon for Shadowhunters, so there were countless explainations around. To Jace, the one that sounded the most convincing was that there just was no space for artistic creativity in the soul of a true warrior. Jace had long ago accepted what he couldn´t understand, but that didn´t mean he never wished he could have understood what Clary was so passionate about.  
As he reached the Gallery, Jace skillfully weaved his way through the loose crowd in search of the familiar red hair, not even wasting a single thought to the mundanes he was sourrounded with, because of his activated glamour rune that made him invisible to those without the sight.  
There she is, thought Jace with relief at having found Clary and with surprise he discovered that she had a new haircut. Her bangs were short and her usually angelically and defined curls were now messy, more like waves. The redhead seemed to have a different hairstyle everytime the blond nephilim decided to visit her in secret and a little voice in his head whispered:“Maybe she knows, maybe she knows what is missing...“  
Jace had to physically shake himself to get rid of this thought, knowing it wouldn´t get him anywhere anyways and looked at the paintings his lost love was presenting.  
As always they were beautiful, of course they were, they were Clary´s afterall, but they were abstract like all of the pieces Clary did since the angel´s punishment.  
The first few times that Jace went to her exhibitions, he couldn´t pin-point what he missed when looking at the paintings, but then it hit him one day. Clary once talked about abstract art and mentioned never having liked to paint something abstract, because to her art was a medium to show others what she saw in her minds eye, so the thing that was missing in her new pieces was that accuracy that Jace had seen and admired in all of her previous pieces.  
Lost in thought, Jace didn´t see Clary coming towards him and startled when she asked in her soft, light voice:“So, what do you think?“  
The hope that flooded the Shadowhunter`s body should be impossible, could she really be forgiven? Warmth spread in his chest and started to flow through his veins like liquid made of low simmering fire.  
The Herondale chuckled happily, but stopped again almost immediatly when he realized that the artist was`nt looking at him. Fire turned to ice and his blood froze in his veins as he turned around to see Clary´s teacher standing behind him.  
For some reason the first line of a nursery rhyme came to his mind, without any context whatsoever.  
“One for sorrow,...“  
Turning away to leave the Gallary, he thought about how one moment was all it took for sorrow to unfold.  
One for sorrow indeed.


End file.
